Human anatomy is something. So many systems, so many organs, so many mechanisms. I hadn't even suspected that the human body worked so harmoniously. Listening to it was interesting — listening, yes, memorizing, not really. So much information, and a lot of it felt unnecessary. I wanted to curl up into a ball, hide in a corner, and sit there until the end of time. But no — I needed to know all of this perfectly well to pass the entrance exams to that dreaded medical school that had already become a pain in my neck.
Finishing my second cup of coffee, I listened in fascination as Collins talked about each of the two hundred and seven bones in the human body. And whatever seemed important, I wrote down. Took notes, so to speak. By the way, notes were a useful thing. Exactly what the doctor ordered before exams.
Every now and then, he rubbed his chin — completely clean-shaven — and occasionally glanced at me, though I couldn't quite describe that look. Christopher simply watched me with his bottomless ocean-colored eyes, and there was absolutely nothing reflected in them. Sometimes he paused briefly, caught his breath, or took a sip from his mug, then continued again.
When our cups were completely empty, I stopped him mid-sentence and headed to the kitchen to refill them: coffee for me, tea for him. The round clock, almost oppressively classic in its design, showed four in the afternoon, but outside it was already dark — incredibly, impenetrably dark. It felt less like September and more like December, honestly.
When I returned, the teacher was busily typing something on his smartphone. As soon as he saw me enter, he quickly tucked it away and helped me with the hot drinks. The rest of the lesson turned into something like a discussion — or rather, an engaging conversation. Energetically gesturing with his hands, Collins eagerly argued with me about the psychological abilities of each person. Yes, we had switched from anatomy to psychology rather quickly.
The lesson seemed to be heading toward a pleasant ending. But of course, things couldn't go that smoothly. He waved his hands just a little too widely and accidentally knocked over his cup of tea, sending its contents spilling directly onto his shirt.
"Mister Collins!" I jumped up in alarm, watching the oddly colored liquid spread across his clothing in a large stain and drip onto the light-colored carpet. "Take it off immediately!"
At my unexpectedly commanding tone, Collins, almost automatically, pulled the shirt over his head, looking at me in surprise from beneath his thick black lashes — lashes any girl would envy. And they'd envy me too, considering there was now a blue-eyed brunette with a bare torso standing in my living room. And quite an attractive one, I should note. I instantly felt heat rush to my cheeks. Quickly snatching the shirt from his hands, I turned away and said over my shoulder:
"I'll… wash it quickly. And I'll bring you something of my dad's for now. I hope it fits."
Without waiting for a reply, I hurried out of the living room, tossed the shirt into the washing machine, and went to find a temporary replacement. My dad's clothes would probably be too big for him, but oh well. He'd survive. It was his fault for waving his arms around like that.
When I returned, Collins was standing away from the table, looking helplessly at the tea slowly dripping onto the floor.
"I guess we should clean it up," he scratched the back of his head, squinting uncertainly.
"Get dressed first," I tossed him a T-shirt, trying not to stare at his attractive torso, the defined lines of his abs clearly visible. But, damn it, it was hard to resist. Even standing sideways, he managed to catch the shirt I threw at him. Smooth.
I headed to the kitchen, grabbing a cloth and some cleaning solution. Everything would've been fine, if not for the carpet.
"Do you have baking soda?" the teacher asked, glancing at the tea stain.
"Yes…"
"Bring it."
Moments later, we were both scrubbing the stained carpet, trying to get rid of the tea. And, thank God — or maybe thanks to Christopher — it was actually working. I let out a relieved breath as the stain faded with every motion of the cloth. Then, as we worked side by side, we accidentally bumped foreheads. It didn't hurt, but it was incredibly awkward… and funny. We both smiled, rubbing our foreheads.
Finally, the stain disappeared completely, and I immediately stood up. I returned the baking soda, the cleaning solution — which hadn't been particularly useful — and the cloth to the kitchen, then came back just as quickly.
Collins pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans, and I shook my head disapprovingly.
"Let's go to the balcony instead," I nodded toward the plastic door behind Collins, and he smiled. Until now, I had only spent time with one person who smoked — Vicky, of course. But the list, it seemed, was slowly growing.
A small lamp flickered on out on the balcony, dimly illuminating everything around us. Leaning against the protective railing that reached the teacher's mid-stomach, he occasionally brought the cigarette to his lips and released thin streams of tobacco smoke. He offered me one, but I refused, saying I didn't approve of such a bad habit.
"Have you ever tried quitting?" I asked, peering into the impenetrable darkness and noticing faint flickering lights in the distance — probably street lamps along the road — breaking the silence between us.
"I try. I try every day," Christopher replied thoughtfully. "But it doesn't really work."
"I'm sure if you really wanted to, you would've quit long ago."
After my words, Collins paused for a moment, turning to look at me meaningfully. I nervously licked my lips, suddenly wanting to hide from his persistent gaze, but I couldn't — I just stood there, frozen in place.
"You've got a point." An unreadable smile lit up the teacher's face. He casually released a thin stream of smoke right into my face, and I ended up inhaling the scent of tobacco — a damn pleasant smell, I should admit. "I guess I don't really have enough motivation or desire. That's probably why…"
"Probably," I agreed, sleepily rubbing my temple. Maybe it was the cigarette smoke, or maybe the night that had fallen so suddenly and quickly. Who knew?
"There's something I wanted to ask you," after a brief silence, Collins broke the unfinished cigarette and tossed it off the balcony, as if disappointed. "Why medical school?"
"My parents," I sighed heavily, remembering my mother's persistence when she insisted on that particular career choice. Back then, she didn't care that it was my least favorite option. "Well… my mom, actually."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised."
"Then why a teacher?" I asked in return, which seemed to surprise Collins slightly, though I didn't pay much attention. "Why did you decide to become a teacher?"
"Let me think." Raising an eyebrow with interest, he frowned slightly, instantly growing focused. Honestly, that expression suited him — made him even more attractive. "I wanted to become financially independent, and a share in my father's company didn't really appeal to me. So I went to study education, despite my parents' protests."
Only then did I truly realize how similar our stories were. In both cases, our parents tried to decide our futures, tried to shape us the way they wanted. But Christopher had gone against their expectations, while I still had that crucial choice ahead of me. Soon.
"Give me the cigarette pack," I suddenly blurted out after a brief silence and a heavy sigh into the darkness.
"But you don't smoke," the teacher frowned in confusion, looking at me questioningly.
"I know." I held out my hand, waiting. Suspiciously eyeing me, the biologist still pulled out the pack and placed it in my palm, his fingers — cold as ice — brushing against my skin. With all the strength I had, I squeezed the cardboard box, slightly crushing it, and confidently tossed it over the railing.
A loud "Ow!" came from below. I quickly leaned over, and when I spotted Mr. Greed — the small elderly neighbor downstairs — I apologized briefly, explaining that we were "getting rid of bad habits." He nodded approvingly and went inside the building, while I let out a relieved sigh.
"You never stop surprising me," Christopher grinned widely, flashing his usual charming smile.
"Getting rid of bad habits," I repeated. "Sounds like a slogan, doesn't it?"